Fat Girl
chimes or distant bells
“Hey baby.” A smirk: teasing. Brown eyes: laughing, mocking, killing. “You wanna go somewhere Friday night?”
Face: blank. Mind: chaotic, muddled, terrified. “What?”
A laugh dances down his tongue, boisterous as usual from Chance, why expect anything different? Chance lives for this, this is the force in which keeps his heart going thump, thump, thump.
Monica gulps, eyes slightly widening. In the pit of her stomach it’s smouldering- the truth. It’s too clear, too obvious, it’s a joke. Humourous words strung together to issue laughter from the lips of others, while her’s remain pressed tightly together.
“What else do you have to do?” he continues, the broad grin plastered across his face amused.
Monica doesn't know what to do. Any of the vocabulary she's picked up over the years along with the Kit Kat bars and lasagna stuffed past her lips has evaporated, leaving her without any defense.
Don't cry, she tells herself. Just don't cry.
“Oh shut up Chance, we both know that the only date you’ve got on Friday is with your left hand.” A voice is heard from Monica’s left, surprised she turns.
The girl wears a cheeky grin and a purple headband, Stella is her name.
He flips her off and she blows a kiss, laughing. When she turns though, her expression has transformed into a much softer one.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s a douche.”
“Okay?”
She can’t mask the puzzlement drowning in her eyes. Never once has a word addressed to her ever leave this girl’s lips, and yet here she is, shooing off Chance. Saving her, like a prince in shining armour, however this one wore glittery eyeliner.
Stella laughs; nothing like chimes or distant bells but yet it rings through her mind as if so. “Now that I’ve scared off the tool, could ya help me with number six? It's making me want to shoot myself.”
Stunned, Monica nods her head. She’s not quite sure what to do, what to say, what to feel.
Because no one ever stands up for Fat Girl, no one ever talks to Fat Girl; no one even looks at her without glaring as if she's disease.
And yet, Stella does.
And she’s not quite sure what to do.
Face: blank. Mind: chaotic, muddled, terrified. “What?”
A laugh dances down his tongue, boisterous as usual from Chance, why expect anything different? Chance lives for this, this is the force in which keeps his heart going thump, thump, thump.
Monica gulps, eyes slightly widening. In the pit of her stomach it’s smouldering- the truth. It’s too clear, too obvious, it’s a joke. Humourous words strung together to issue laughter from the lips of others, while her’s remain pressed tightly together.
“What else do you have to do?” he continues, the broad grin plastered across his face amused.
Monica doesn't know what to do. Any of the vocabulary she's picked up over the years along with the Kit Kat bars and lasagna stuffed past her lips has evaporated, leaving her without any defense.
Don't cry, she tells herself. Just don't cry.
“Oh shut up Chance, we both know that the only date you’ve got on Friday is with your left hand.” A voice is heard from Monica’s left, surprised she turns.
The girl wears a cheeky grin and a purple headband, Stella is her name.
He flips her off and she blows a kiss, laughing. When she turns though, her expression has transformed into a much softer one.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s a douche.”
“Okay?”
She can’t mask the puzzlement drowning in her eyes. Never once has a word addressed to her ever leave this girl’s lips, and yet here she is, shooing off Chance. Saving her, like a prince in shining armour, however this one wore glittery eyeliner.
Stella laughs; nothing like chimes or distant bells but yet it rings through her mind as if so. “Now that I’ve scared off the tool, could ya help me with number six? It's making me want to shoot myself.”
Stunned, Monica nods her head. She’s not quite sure what to do, what to say, what to feel.
Because no one ever stands up for Fat Girl, no one ever talks to Fat Girl; no one even looks at her without glaring as if she's disease.
And yet, Stella does.
And she’s not quite sure what to do.
♠ ♠ ♠
AW, GABBY, YOU'RE SO NICE.I know, it's been uber depressing for the longest time.
so I decided to throw her a bone, so what?
your thoughts and whatnot are appreciated! :D